


A Mother's Resolve

by Kalashnikorn



Series: Anti-Seed [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:04:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalashnikorn/pseuds/Kalashnikorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A message to the Bullet Farmer from his mother.  Prologue to Anti-Seed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Resolve

My dearest Sashenka,

 

That fateful morning feels not so distant. The screaming of some abandoned newborn taunted me from across the hall.

That child was not mine. No, you were silent, limp in my arms. I knew you as a little bean with a galloping heartbeat and a kick like a Desert Eagle, but you showed no sign of life as I held your slippery body against my skin. Moments ago, I had wished, more than anything, that my husband could’ve lived to see that day; but the incarnate evidence of our love seemed to have been strangled by the very cord that once kept our child alive.

My weeping wracked your little motionless body.

Running my fingers through your first traces of wavy brown hair, I was reminded of your father. I was taken back to one fateful night, beneath the outback sky. We’d already picked the name Sasha – and just to me, you would be known as Sashenka. Whether you would be known to the world as Alexander Kalashnikov or Alexandra Kalashnikova, it made no difference. We only cared that you were happy, healthy, and above all, alive. We gazed upon the ancient landscape and endless sky, sharing countless dreams for you to thrive in a world, which for a moment, seemed full of hope. That flood of memories brought me a trace of a smile before sobbing overtook me once more.

My eyes drifted over to the teddy bear I sewed for you. Laying every stitch, I imagined, you, my future child – seeing you toddle along with it in hand, or cuddle it, asleep and dreaming. I remembered etching your name into a Derringer, hoping one day this single-shot token of my love could protect you. I'd always taken for granted that you'd see adulthood, and for a moment, I felt like a fool to assume you’d live at all.

I traced the contour of your nose; it was aquiline, with a slight hook. As I cradled your face, I caught a hint of your cheekbones beneath the baby fat. You were mine; perfect in every way. What I’d have given to meet your eyes and hear your laugh.

Then, my heart leapt at the slightest hint of a sound from your lips. I leaned in, struggling to hear you over the squalling from across the hall. Once again, I cradled your face and watched intently, desperate to believe any sign of life. Groggy eyes blinked awake, dazed but cognizant.

 

Your first conscious moments were spent being showered in kisses and tears of joy.

 

The other newborn’s wailing fell upon deaf ears as you nursed. I shifted my weight on the thin, creaky mattress, and draped a threadbare hospital sheet around you. Not a single doctor or nurse had come to check on us since I went into labor and was relegated to this windowless room. All efforts were focused on the screaming one. New toys that lit up and sang, colorful decals, and even a set of working light bulbs adorned its room. I felt my lip curl. Yet none of that seemed to matter to you, Sashenka. You were perfectly content with the rhythm of my heart and the simple little bear I’d sewn with my own two hands. And that was the moment I understood; I wasn’t raising a baby for the world I knew, no. I was raising a survivor, an ascetic warrior, a wise but fierce leader for a merciless world. You were meant to be a man who could venture forth into the unknown, and emerge with the unknown’s head on a pike. I’d soon learn that you were a born protector; you were a kind, just man. One meant to live, to lead, to make a mark on this world. And if the only mark left to make on this world was a scar, then so be it.

You knew not the life that was ahead of you. As I watched you give my finger a little squeeze before drifting off to sleep, I hoped that you – and I – would see the day your hands were strong and calloused, and that your wavy locks would one day be flecked with gray. And I hoped that you’d never lose sleep over your means of survival; that you would feel worthwhile to do whatever it takes to keep yourself alive.

I savored every fleeting moment I could hold you near, providing for you and protecting you from the misery and chaos that surrounds us. But with every passing day, I knew the time grew nearer for me to see you off into the madness. Yes, I wanted for you the best this world can offer; but more so, I wanted to equip you to survive its worst. That was my duty to you, as your mother.

 

I’d rather you be the predator than the prey.


End file.
